


Stray 'Facing Scenes

by ClothesBeam



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers: Prime
Genre: Multi, Polyamory, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Transformers Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-17 23:57:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7291360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClothesBeam/pseuds/ClothesBeam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes I start multi-chapter fics and then later realise I'm never going to get around to finishing them, so I delete them. But <i>certain scenes</i> take a lot of effort (for me) to write so... this is exactly what it says on the tin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Off-Worlders: Prowl/Constructicons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructicons/Prowl. Originally from Ch 2 of Off-Worlders, the half-baked sequel to Hey Stranger.

_How did you manage to convince them you’re the only one that needs to be locked away, again?_ Hook asked through the bond as the group was led through the wasteland by an escort of eight police bots. Jazz and his cadet were along, as usual.

 _They think I’m in charge because I’m the head._ And as long as it was convenient for him, he didn’t mind if they thought that. Even if they weren’t natural investigators like him, the Constructicons were as good as his own eyes and ears. _So as long as you all behave, at least some of us can walk free._

 _And we get to combine!_ Scavenger added. While they all missed being connected ‘properly’, he was always the most enthusiastic about it.

Prowl gave his assent and gazed across the wasteland. The warehouse structure was rather more impressive that it had once been. The pet construction project was their only proof that Devastator liked to do things other than, well, destruction. Every time Prowl returned from a combination, the place had expanded impressively.

Jazz gestured expansively. “Home sweet home, eh? You lot can do your thing until sundown, same as usual.”

The police took this as their signal to back off. Most of them had done this before and now volunteered for the easy and well-compensated shift of their own volition. If Prowl had any interest in leaving the city, now would be the time to do it.

Prowl frowned when the bond didn’t start altering as it normally would right before combining. Scavenger turned around and grinned at him before taking hold of his arm and dragging him in the direction of the warehouse.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Prowl muttered, becoming frustrated by the way he was being blocked out from seeing his intentions.

 _Now you know how that feels,_ Bonecrusher commented, following along at a relaxed pace.

“I think we could use some privacy!” Scavenger said with a poorly concealed laugh.

And suddenly he had a suspicion about what they had in mind, whether they were going to let him see it or not.

 _You think about work too much_ , Long Haul said with sincere concern.

 _Even though you’re unemployed!_ Mixmaster added, to the amusement of the others.

Prowl glanced back and saw they would be out of hearing range soon. Jazz shrugged at him when he noticed him looking, indicating they weren’t going to follow. He turned back to see Bonecrusher activating and opening the warehouse doors. He had no clue how the door mechanism worked, only a faint schematic passed on from the others, but the whole warehouse was made to be suitable for them in either form.

So, the ceiling was very high.

Once the door had safely closed behind them, Scavenger’s grip on him softened. “We should really get some furniture in here. It’s not exactly in the front of Devastator’s processor but…”

“Like all six of us could do it anywhere but on the floor,” Boncrusher replied with a snicker.

“Hmph, well _I_ came at least somewhat prepared,” Hook muttered, withdrawing a sheet of tarpaulin from him subspace. He shook it out flat before laying it on the ground.

“Yeah great, about two and a half of us can fit on that,” Scavenger grumbled, folding his arms.

“Perfect, just enough room for Prowl and myself,” Hook teased, holding a hand out to Prowl.

“No way! Prowl’s the half!” Scavenger protested, dragging him down onto the mat.

Prowl didn’t bother protesting too much, simply letting himself be dragged along. Their lust was getting him going as well, after all. But still, a half? “What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“That you’re the smallest,” Long Haul quickly saved as he sat behind them, seeming not to care too much about the floor.

“No offense intended,” Hook added from beside Prowl.

“Well anyway, I’m not sitting on the floor,” Bonecrusher interrupted as he unceremoniously dropped into Prowl’s lap. “That’s better.”

“For who, exactly?” Scavenger scoffed and pushed them both over so that Prowl was lying on his back with Bonecrusher hovering over him.

Prowl couldn’t see who had parted his legs, but he knew it was Hook and Scavenger’s hands on him. Mixmaster stood over them still, apparently biding his time. Long Haul’s large fingers moved over his neck and head gently, reminding him to relax. He glanced up, and the large mech’s softly glowing optics indicated he was smiling under the mask.

Bonecrusher’s hands ran over his chest, easily finding sensitive seams as though they were his own. Hook teased around the back of his knees and inner thighs a little before Scavenger impatiently groped his interfacing panels. The sudden contrast made him start and gasp for cool air.

He felt his faceplates heat up when Boncrusher’s spike pressed against his middle. “I want you in me, boss-bot.”

He ground down against him, causing his interfacing panels to move aside. “Move your aft, Bonecrusher!” Scavenger complained. “There are other people here.”

Mixmaster sighed at their behaviour and pulled Scavenger away to the side. “You lot have got to be the unsexiest bunch I’ve ever had the misfortune to get caught in my optic.” He let his mask move aside, a rare display outside of fuelling up. Mixmaster’s hands moved over Scavenger’s frame to placate him, and it was only then that Bonecrusher moved so that Hook had proper access to Prowl’s valve.

Scavenger was clearly still simmering, but that wasn’t anything new when Bonecrusher’s favourite hobby was annoying him. “Would you just relax? You can do what you want next time.” Mixmaster placated. “Now increase the extent of your bond with Prowl a little?”

Scavenger did so as Mixmaster began rubbing the outside of his valve. Prowl squirmed when he felt everything Scavenger did, as though someone was touching him directly. Bonecrusher smirked down at him and reached around to line his valve up with Prowl’s spike.

Prowl moaned out loud when he engulfed him. He briefly worried about what it’d sound like if one of their ‘escort’ was close enough to hear. Long Haul covered the entirety of his lower face with his large hand in response. And Prowl did feel secure rather than restricted, given how many ways they had to communicate. He moaned into the large mech’s hand when Hook lifted his hips in coordination with Bonecrusher and penetrated him.

He clung to Long Haul’s hand for lack of any other ideas. There was no hesitation from Bonecrusher and Hook; they simply _knew_ the movements and pacing he’d appreciate the most. When Long Haul gently guided his head to the side he glanced at Scavenger. The excavator had been turned on his side by Mixmaster, who was now thrusting into him.

Prowl’s optics returned to his face after taking in the attractive shape of his frame, only to find it was practically burning up. He felt an odd sense of pride from Scavenger in the fact Prowl found him attractive. Prowl wound back on the thinking after trying to process that strange thought one too many times.

When Bonecrusher stroked down his chest, the seams of the plating over his spark parted almost immediately. The bulldozer continued moving his hips shallowly as he bent down to run his glossa over the edges of his spark chamber. Prowl made more embarrassing – _wonderful_ – sounds as the oral fluid caused his charge to jump to and focus on particular areas.

Hook’s directions briefly flashed across the outer edges of his consciousness, but there was no chance of focussing on them when Bonecrusher’s glossa was passing through the outer edges of his spark. He felt the enticing tingle as though it was in his own mouth even as his spark reacted, snapping overload inducing energy through everyone who was in contact with him. But then, even those who weren’t felt it just as strongly.

Prowl onlined his optics blearily, glancing down as Hook slowly withdrew his softening spike from him. His own was slick with fluids even as Bonecrusher slid off him. Prowl glanced up at Long Haul, immediately noticing that he wasn’t as sated as the rest of them.

 _Is there anything we can do?_ he asked through the bond because he didn’t quite trust himself to speak clearly yet.

 _I’m all right. It felt nice._ The sentiment was sincere, but Prowl felt he wouldn’t say no to any attempts he made.

Bonecrusher and Hook moved when they registered his intentions, and he clumsily turned onto his front, letting the hand that had been on his face fall away. Prowl took in his impressive spike, but it was too much for him to do anything with his mouth or valve. He turned his attention to the small puddle of fluid by the valve opening and reached out his hand.

Long Haul murmured softly as his fingers brushed against him, and his valve easily accepted two of Prowl’s fingers. He shuffled forward more to run his glossa over the group of glowing external sensors as he pushed upwards with his fingers. He glanced up when he saw Scavenger’s hand reach over and begin stroking Long Haul’s spike as well.

Long Haul’s valve easily took the rest of Prowl’s fingers, allowing him to reach the sensors that lay deeper inside even as he began sucking on the sensitive area on the outside. Long Haul tilted his head back slightly, letting out a soft moan. His overload was just as soft and drawn out.

Prowl felt his thanks as fluid gushed around his hand. _I’m glad you liked it._

“Well, I suppose we should get cleaned up and do what we’re actually supposed to be doing out here,” Hook said lightly.

Prowl sat up, processor finally having returned to normal. “I suppose so,” he said with a small smile.


	2. Off-Worlders: Drift/Ratchet/Wing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drift/Wing/Ratchet. Originally from Ch 5 of Off-Worlders, the half-baked sequel to Hey Stranger.

When Drift went inside he saw Ratchet was seemingly searching for something, but he knew the mech’s workspace was far better organised than that. When Ratchet turned to look at him, he flung his arms around his medic. The gentle return of his touch indicated there were no hard feelings lingering between them.

Drift glanced over at Wing, who was fiddling with a datapad. He smiled at him gently, and Drift glanced away, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed.

Ratchet unknowingly interrupted the silent interaction going on over his shoulder. “I don’t know how useful your swords will be against humans, but if you’re going to come with us you should be prepared.”

“I’ll take the swords for the co-conspirators,” he replied with a small smile. “But if it comes to it, vehicle mode is probably the best option.”

Ratchet looked a little shocked by his answer, but simply rolled his optics. “I am _not_ scraping organic matter off your underside.”

Drift brought his face closer to Ratchet’s. “Well, if all goes well, you shouldn’t have to.” He kissed him briefly on the lips.

Wing put the datapad down and approached them, resting his chin on Ratchet’s shoulder. Drift gave him a kiss as well and he laughed softly. “All joking aside, how are you holding up?”

“Well, I guess,” Drift replied, even as he saw Ratchet looking him up and down properly, scanning for defects. “It was good to think for a while.”

“Should’ve spent less time daydreaming and more time fuelling,” Ratchet grumbled.

“Oh dear, I guess that means we can’t leave yet,” Wing murmured even as he buried his face in Ratchet’s neck cabling and winked at Drift. Ratchet huffed, but didn’t push him away. “Lucky we’re not in a hurry anyway.” He released Ratchet and reached around to grab Drift’s hand, tugging him over to the stairs.

As he was led into the sitting room, Drift glanced over his shoulder and saw Ratchet wasn’t following them. A little disappointed, he turned his attention back to Wing as he filled a glass from the energon dispenser.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll come up once everything’s packed. We were almost done when he called you.” He offered the glass carefully, full to the brim as it was. “You are done with fasting, aren’t you?”

Drift took the glass. “I wasn’t intentionally starving myself. I just didn’t feel like I had time to fuel.” He took a sip as Wing nodded his acceptance.

Drift watched him kneel down and open the cupboard door. He removed a box of energon goodies. By the time he’d turned back, Drift was already done with the fuel. Wing took his glass and washed it out for him before putting it away.

Drift turned halfway to the door and saw Ratchet pass by on his way to the berthroom. Wing took his arm and smiled gently. “Can I have your spike, this time?”

Drift felt a bit warmer as Wing pushed the box of treats into his hand. “You don’t have to bribe me for that,” he joked weakly.

“Then won’t you lead the way?” he prompted.

Drift wasn’t used to taking the initiative during interface, but he couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy it sometimes. He nodded and made his way out of the room while Wing stayed a step behind him. He saw Ratchet was sliding over to sit at the head of the berth.

“Sit between Ratchet’s legs,” he more suggested than anything, but Wing just smiled and did as he asked. Wing stroked one of Ratchet’s hands and made sure to slide his aft over the medic’s interfacing panels as he settled down.

“Oh, so it’s going to be like that, is it?” Ratchet grumbled, taking a tight hold of the jet’s wrists.

“Well, maybe not quite like that,” Wing said quietly, tilting his head toward Drift.

Ratchet wrapped his arms around him, pinning Wing’s arms to his chassis. Drift left the box on the table near the bed before kneeling in front of them. He rested his hands on Wing’s thighs as he leaned forward, only to avoid Wing’s mouth in favour of Ratchet’s.

Wing protested this by bumping his head against theirs. Drift grabbed his jaw and gently tilted his face back out of the way. When they’d finished Ratchet said, “Come on now, if you behave you’ll get something sweet.”

Drift reached for the box again and finally looked inside. It held the goodies that had a solid exterior and a sweet, gooey interior. His favourite kind.

He took one out of the box and offered it to Ratchet by holding it near his mouth, since his partners’ hands were otherwise occupied.

“Thanks,” Ratchet said as he took him up on his offer.

Drift popped one into his own mouth and broke the shell before pressing his lips to Wing’s. He spread the sweet fluid over his glossa as he reached up and cupped the knight’s face in his hands. When he pressed his glossa between Wing’s lips, it was accepted enthusiastically. Drift kissed him less carefully once the sweetness had faded, dragging his hands over Wing’s frame.

He shuddered as Drift’s fingers dug beneath his plating to stroke wiring directly. Ratchet’s grip around Wing tightened and he took his hand. When Drift went to lean forward even more, the box in his lap shifted and he paused, afraid he was going to make a mess.

Drift leaned back and put the box aside. As he did so, he noticed something else resting on the bedside table. Curious, he picked up the folded piece of material. Ratchet laughed lowly at his look of confusion.

“Do you want the makeshift blindfold again Wing?”

He glanced up at Drift when he answered. “Yes.”

Drift made the folds more even and held it up to his face, blocking the glow of his yellow optics. He managed to secure it, but knew it probably wouldn’t take long to slide out of place. Drift traced Wing’s lips with his fingers before moving in for another kiss. He stroked the back of Ratchet’s hand and dragged his fingers over the medic’s. He was rewarded with a gentle shudder of pleasure.

Drift leaned back into his kneeling position and smiled down at his partners. Ratchet smiled back, but Wing simply tensed very slightly, trying to figure out what he was going to do next. Drift stroked his chest plate, his mouth following the trail of his hand all the way down to Wing’s interfacing panels.

He rubbed the area, which was already scorching hot. He felt Wing tremble as he placed a line of kisses down the seam. When he remained closed, Drift realised he was waiting to be told. “Open up.”

Wing’s spike sprang forth as soon as he did, and fluids were already gathering in his valve entrance. He ran his glossa over the entrance, relishing Wing’s taste. He then slid a finger into his valve, feeling Wing clench around him.

Drift looked up as he slowly inserted another finger, and felt his venting cycle stutter. Wing’s head was tilted back, his mouth slightly open and his neck cabling exposed to Ratchet’s mouth, who was taking full advantage of this. His arms were still pinned in place, crossing his chassis, his hands clutching at his turbines.

Drift inserted a third finger, feeling for the sensors that would push him higher. Wing gasped and tilted his hips in an attempt to guide him. Wing moaned and his spike twitched as Drift spread his fingers. He let his own interfacing panels open as he reached up with his other hand to stroke Wing’s spike.

“Drift, please,” Wing begged.

Drift slowly withdrew his fingers and rubbed the fluid along his spike. He brought his hand up to Wing’s mouth to get rid of the rest of it. Once Wing had figured out what Drift was getting at, he happily licked him clean.

Drift glanced at Ratchet, noticing he was staring and biting his bottom lip. “You want my spike, don’t you Wing?” Drift murmured as he withdrew his fingers.

“Yes. Please…”

“I need you to do one thing for me, then. Make sure you treat Ratchet’s hands as nicely as you just did mine.”

“Of course,” Wing said hurriedly.

“Good,” Drift said as he sat back and grabbed Wing’s hips. He dragged Wing into a better position, making him inch down the berth and bring his mouth a little closer to Ratchet’s hands. Drift lined his spike up and pushed forward, biting down on his lip at the feeling of smooth and warm valve walls.

Wing obediently let two of Ratchet’s fingers pass through his lips as Drift rocked back and forth. When he moaned and tried push closer, Drift increased his pace, gritting his dentae and feeling a strangely familiar sneer cross his face. But he couldn’t be scared of what he had been, anymore. He could only resolve to never fall that far again.

Wing continued giving little muffled whimpers of pleasure even as Ratchet started jerking his hips and grinding against his lower back. Drift slammed into him harder at the encouragement, watching the makeshift blindfold slide down Wing’s face. Drift stared into the single visible bright yellow optic, taking in the oral lubricant being smeared around his lips and chin as Wing tried to keep his lips around Ratchet’s fingers.

Drift touched his forehead to Wing’s as he continued moving back and forth. “I love you,” he reaffirmed.

Wing’s optics brightened a little and a few moments later his valve clenched and slicked, indicating his overload. Ratchet removed his fingers, deciding to give him the chance to speak if he wanted to.

“And I, you, Drift.”

Drift smiled and withdrew from his valve. Wing looked like he might protest, but Drift was quick to explain.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, Ratchet.” He pressed his forehead into Ratchet’s until the back of the medic’s helm was forced to rest against the wall above the berth. “Is there anything you want?”

Ratchet finally let go of Wing so that he could cup Drift’s face in his hands. “Right now? Just the two of you.”

They kissed passionately, but Drift soon pulled back to allow Wing to escape from between them. Drift dragged Ratchet back by his hips, getting him to lie down flat on the berth. Wing got up on his elbows and entwined the fingers of one of his hands with Ratchet’s.

“Well, I suppose you’re all right as well,” Wing teased.

Ratchet reached down with his other hand to ensure his valve was properly prepared. Drift watched him work himself up as Wing leaned over to kiss him gently.

“I’m so glad I have you,” Drift murmured as he sank into Ratchet. “ _Both_ of you.”


	3. How to Start WW3: TFP Smokescreen/Soundwave/Knock Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TFP Soundwave/Smokescreen/Knock Out, originally from How to Start WW3. Plug and play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this is so old, and yet it was only written about a year ago?
> 
> The basic concept of this story was Smokescreen having to become a leader now that the matrix and his mentor are gone. He argued for Soundwave to be released from the shadowzone, so that's why they're so... friendly.

Soundwave stood to the side so the mech could leave, before coming to a halt in front of his desk. “You should recharge.”

“There isn’t time,” Smokescreen groaned. “If the US call us I need to be there to answer.”

“They will wait.”

“Can’t you see? We’re tearing Earth apart, making each country choose a side. If we’re not careful they’ll destroy _each other_. Remind you of someone?”

 _“_ They. Will. Wait _,”_ Soundwave repeated. “Go and rest, we can deal with this.”

Smokescreen crossed his arms stubbornly. “If that’s all you wanted to say then…”

The door slid shut and Soundwave came around the side of his desk, extra appendages waving in the air.

“Oh yeah, let’s distract Smokescreen like that. It’s sure to work. Hilarious,” he muttered sourly.

“Distraction: effective,” he replied plainly. “I can feel your desire.”

The tentacles wrapped around his arms and torso, effectively trapping him. Soundwave showed off his impressive strength by lifting him off the chair and gently placing him on the ground under his desk.

“Did you know the camera can’t see you down here?”

Smokescreen’s mouth tightened and he didn’t answer. He did appreciate the gesture, though.

He could sense the static running through Soundwave’s extra limbs. He shivered as the ends looped back and pushed his legs apart.

Soundwave knelt in front of him, running his fingers over his ‘facing panels. Smokescreen grimaced, not quite willing to give in that easily after everything he’d just said. Soundwave retracted his screen and leaned closer.

“I’m not recording. You’re safe with me.” His servo slid up over his chassis before trekking back down again. “Trust me.”

Smokescreen let his head fall back against the desk’s panelling as he relaxed, opening to the other bot. “I… I do,” he murmured.

A gentle wave of charge ran through him before Soundwave connected to his port. The tight and restraining grip around his torso made him feel surprisingly secure. Soundwave reached up and began massaging his neck cables. Smokescreen vented deeply, allowing himself to relax.

Soundwave regulated the interchange of charge between them by only putting forth a little energy, even though Smokescreen was putting out a lot. Smokescreen guessed he was trying to wear him out, but at some point he’d forgotten why he was supposed to care about that.

The claws on the end of one of the tentacles worked their way beneath his plating. It sent small pulses of pleasure up and down his back strut.

The pleasure continued to build, but all he wanted was more. He let his legs fall open further, trying to do something to get the last bit of charge that would send him over the edge.

But it seemed Soundwave was not going to hand it over that easily. He would say he and Knockout were conspiring against him, but in reality Soundwave had probably seen how much he’d enjoyed it last time.

“ _Soundwave_ ,” he murmured, vocaliser hitching. “Please just, ah…”

He offlined his optics and clenched his servos into fists. Soundwave surprised him with a strong burst of charge and he cried out softly. He tensed and pushed his hips into the bot above him as he reached overload. The surveillance officer shuddered against him, the only indication of his own pleasure.

A moment later the extra limbs began to retract. “Wait,” Smokescreen murmured, vocaliser making his voice sound odd. At Soundwave’s attentive look he became hesitant. “Can we stay like this for just a bit longer?”

The limbs tightened slightly, making him feel more secure. The ex-con sat up and pulled him into something of a hug, servo against the back of his head. “As long as you need.”

Smokescreen settled and offlined his optics again before commencing a long needed defrag. Only then did he notice Soundwave’s program working furiously in the background. “Are you… _updating_?”

“I think I have collected useful data for Soundwave.exe,” he replied. “I am taking advantage of the hard line connection.”

Smokescreen rolled his optics, not even surprised anymore.

* * *

 

Smokescreen entered his residence and moved straight to his berth. It had been a while since his last return, but Raf and Bumblebee now had more free time to help him with both the ‘war’ effort and his actual job. They had adopted a rotating shift pattern of about 8 Earth hours to support Raf’s rather more finicky body clock.

Finally, he could get what Soundwave had been trying to organise all this time: a decent recharge!

He jumped slightly when a private comm came through from the very bot he was thinking of. “May I come and speak to you before you recharge?”

“Yeah, of course,” he replied in kind, sitting up again.

His door slid open just a short time later. The communications specialist approached him almost hesitantly. Before he could word a question, Soundwave spoke. “Do you find my contributions… useful?”

Smokescreen frowned. Did Soundwave think he _didn’t_? “Of course! I don’t know what I’d do without you!” he replied. “But, can’t you see… hear, or whatever, that?” he asked, trying to refer to the connection forged between them by Soundwave’s executable.

“Affirmative. But I… I like to hear it said out loud,” he carefully admitted.

And suddenly Smokescreen could see he _liked_ it, in just a little more than the conventional sense. “ _Oh_ ,” he said intelligently. He was exhausted, but he did have another way of helping the spy bot. “Come lie down.”

He did so while Smokescreen leaned down to access the storage compartments in the berth. He found the charge inducer, something he could plug into the other mech to stimulate him. He waved it over his shoulder, “Is this what you want?”

“You can do as you please to me.”

He paused and turned to look at him properly. “That wasn’t the question,” he replied gently. “Is this what you came here for?”

“… Yes.”

Smokescreen sat upright next to him and rested a servo on his chassis. “I’m really glad you’re helping me. You’re so well organised. We wouldn’t be where we are now without your systems. But you don’t have to stay attached to me like this, you know?”

“I do, but I want to,” he replied softly. Before he could vocalise his thoughts Soundwave added, “I will let you know if that changes.” He let his interface panel move aside. “There’s so much more I could do if you would just let me in.”

Smokescreen leaned over to plug in the inducer. He put it on the first setting; gentle and intermittent pulses of charge. “What do you mean?”

“The connection can go both ways, you know. And we can share even the barest of sensory data.” His knees jerked slightly when Smokescreen adjusted the power of the charge.

Smokescreen ran a servo over his clenched fist. He sat back and offlined his optics to help him focus on his internal systems. He could feel the executable working fiercely in the background, sharing their data. He followed a particular trail of code and gasped when he felt the same transmissions of pleasure as Soundwave was right now.

“I-I see,” he murmured, automatically shifting to adjust it to a setting he normally found most pleasing.

Soundwave unclenched his fist and instead clutched the servo still resting over it. He gripped tighter as the intensity of the charge increased.

Smokescreen stared down at the unusually compliant Soundwave. He got a rush from controlling his body so perfectly. He used the constant feedback to keep him on edge.

Suddenly he saw what he needed to do to induce an overload, and hastily changed the setting. Soundwave jerked and made a soft whining sound. He vented deeply, and Smokescreen wasn’t really surprised that that was all the response he was going to get.

Smokescreen flicked the power source off before it became unpleasant. His systems tingled from experiencing the overload alongside Soundwave, but nothing had been physically altered beyond a state of minor arousal.

“That was just… wow.” He turned to him properly, the face screen pointed in his direction. “You’re amazing.”

* * *

 

Knockout folded his arms and frowned at Smokescreen. “Are you actually being serious right now?”

“Yes, you can’t just ignore PTSD,” he insisted. Again. He glanced over at the mech, who now had a few more sharp angles than before. Apparently he had liked Audi’s new design enough to scan it after all. “It’s just talking with someone qualified to help you work through issues.”

“I’m millions of Earth years old. What would some squishy be able to say to help?”

“Well in case you hadn’t noticed, we don’t exactly have someone qualified to help you here. Unless you want to pour your spark out to Ratchet.”

He vented and stood. “I just want to drive around, but there’s no surfaces that suit these tyres,” he said, turning to indicate the new wheels he had also been given.

“I know the feeling,” Smokescreen replied, trying to not get distracted from the conversation at hand. “Just give it a go. Please?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” He placed his hands akimbo, resting most of his weight on one pede.

Smokescreen glanced up and down the attractive shape it made. The red mech smirked, and he knew Knockout was doing it on purpose.

He quickly snapped out of it when Bumblebee entered the room. “All right Smoke, your shift is over,” he said, trying to balance a pile of datapads and a PC.

“Ok, great. Just comm me if you need anything,” he replied, shoving his things into a corner of the desk. He’d be back sooner than later.

He followed Knockout out of the office and down the hallway. To his surprise he paused in front of the communications centre and knocked on the door.

It slid open and they found Soundwave plugged into two computers and physically typing at a third. Laserbeak was also detached from his chest, and seemed to be performing some kind of simple sorting task.

“So uh, working hard or hardly working?” Smokescreen asked, surprised at the sight. He never had seen the ex-con in action before.

“We are doing just enough to get by,” he replied.

Knockout chuckled softly. “Given the current state of things, I could believe that.” He shifted again. “Well come on, if Smokescreen and I have free time, you must be allowed some too.”

“I am examining Earth’s media,” he answered. “The nations are also having a private meeting, but the room has a camera in it.”

“We need intelligence about the situation, but you can’t just spy on them,” Smokescreen said uncomfortably. “No wonder they don’t trust us.”

“The meeting is about us exclusively. The world seems largely divided on what they should do.” He detached from one of the consoles. “It seems we have been deemed worthy of having human rights.”

“Aren’t we just the special ones,” Knockout replied sarcastically.

“I would like to remain here and watch how things continue to play out before they contact us. But, I may be able to spare some processing power,” he conceded.

Knockout smirked and shoved Smokescreen forward. Soundwave caught him before he could slam into him.

He swung back around irritably, only to have Knockout press up against his chest. He stepped forward again, forcing Smokescreen to lean back against Soundwave. Smokescreen felt his temperature shoot up, even before Soundwave’s servos came around to rest on his chassis.

Knockout grabbed his hips roughly, yanking him forward so that his interfacing panels were lined up with his. “It’s your lucky day Smokey,” he teased.

Smokescreen gave a false start. “You’re telling me.”

“Such a little flatterer,” he said with a seductive smirk. He reached a clawed servo beneath the outer armour plating, and fiddled with the wires sitting just above his interface array.

Smokescreen squirmed between the two frames and groaned as his panel opened. He stuttered in the middle of a venting cycle as Knockout ran his servo across his interfacing array. He traced his way down the plug, and across his first port, which started shifting in response to the fingers being presented to it.

“It’s interesting that you have two ports,” he commented offhandedly. “Hardly unusual, but I haven’t seen many bots with this configuration as of late.”

“I suppose you’d know,” Smokescreen replied. “The back one doesn’t change as much as the front.”

He shuddered, and charge sparked through his array when Soundwave’s servo also reached down to inspect him. “My plug would fit well,” he concluded.

“Well, that should make things easier,” Knockout replied, letting the small spark of charge Smokescreen was producing jump between his fingers and his ports.

Smokescreen could feel both of the older mechs’ plugs moving out of their protective casing. He shifted his hips in an instinctive attempt to get what he wanted.

“Now, now, if you’re not going to behave, we’ll have to make you stay still,” Knockout warned.

Soundwave took hold of his wrists and expertly pinned them behind his back with his servos. The tentacles detached from the consoles and wrapped around his waist and thighs.

“That’s ok, I think I like it better this way,” Smokescreen murmured, trying to maintain his smirk through his desperation.

“As do I,” Soundwave said, sliding into his back port. He put pressure on him so he would bend his knees a little.

Smokescreen, already shuddering, did so. Knockout nodded at the mech over his shoulder, and stepped forward to plug in as well now that they were at a height that was suitable for him.

Smokescreen groaned as two charges ran through his system simultaneously. He fuzzily followed a line of Soundwave’s program, and he arrived just in time to feel the ex-con receive the charge.

Smokescreen groaned as the relentless stimulation sent him closer and closer to the edge. His knees gave out, but Soundwave moved his tentacles to brace against the ground, forcing him to remain in position.

“I thought you would last a bit longer than this,” Knockout teased, clearly enjoying watching him squirm with desire.

“Ngh, shut up,” he mumbled, before feeling himself slipping over the edge. “Primus!” he gasped.

As he relaxed again, his partners released him and lowered him to the floor between them. Smokescreen rested his head against the console, and leaned against Soundwave’s knee. Soundwave grabbed Knockout’s hips, who winked salaciously.

Smokescreen found his recovering systems heating up again as he watched Soundwave plug into the medic directly above him. Soft waves of pleasure rolled over him, muted now that there was no hardline connection. But that was a blessing while his frame was still recovering.

He watched charge jump between them in fascination, transfixed by Knockout seeming to come apart at the seams. The medic’s deep groan had his fans booting up again before he knew it. His ports ached to join back in on the stimulation.

Feeling this, Soundwave reached a tentacle down, wedging its claws in his ports. The charge was sharp and strong, coming every time Knockout passed something over to him. He watched the medic collapse against the taller mech, and bright sparks rushed into Soundwave’s interface array.

“I want to feel you overload, Soundwave,” Smokescreen murmured, bucking his hips again.

The communication’s officer left Knockout to lean against the console while he recovered. He swooped down on his master, sitting on him so that Smokescreen’s plug slid into his port.

“S-Soundwave,” he murmured as pleasure overcame his senses. He was too far gone to do anything creative, simply letting the charge bounce back to Soundwave. Not that it mattered when they were so intimately connected to each other’s feelings.

Smokescreen wasn’t sure who caused who to finish, but soon found the communications bot clutching him and shuddering as he reached overload. They both vented heavily against each other, cooling fans running loudly.

“Hmm,” Knockout began, as he tapped the console absently, “I think Smokescreen had the better view.”


End file.
